Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes part of you, step for step, breath for breath.

My grandmother thinks it's really funny to put all sorts of things in our - my lunch. I never know what'll be inside: e.e. cummings, flower petals, a handful of buttons. She seems to have lost sight of the original purpose of the brown bag." - Lennie "Or maybe she thinks other forms of nourishment are more important." - Joe

That's exactly it—I am crazy sad, and somewhere deep inside, all I want is to fly.

I could step out of this sad life like it's an old sorry dress.

For the first time in our lives, I’m somewhere she can’t find, and I don’t have the map to give her that leads to me.

How could a mother who boils water for pasta leave two little girls behind?

This is the secret I kept from you, Bails, from myself too: I think I liked that Mom was gone, that she could be anybody, anywhere, doing anything. I liked that she was our invention, a woman living on the last page of the story with only what we imagined spread out before her. I liked that she was ours, alone.